Richard turned around, looking with interest at the assassin in the room.
At this moment, the female assassin looked anything but formidable, tightly bound with ropes around a pillar in the room.
There was no trace of imagined allure or beauty; the hemp ropes deeply constricted her flesh, leaving unsightly purple marks on her skin, signs of prolonged bruising.
Richard was well aware that even if the assassin were untied now, the bound areas would likely decay in the coming days.
If bound for longer, the effects would be even worse.
The female assassin, with disheveled hair, tilted her head.
Upon hearing someone enter, she immediately looked over with a cold and alert gaze.
When she saw it was Richard, she didn't say anything, just emitted a cold snort.
It was Richard who broke the silence, addressing the assassin,"I don't know if you heard, but there was this girl right outside the door, begging me to spare the life of the person who tried to kill me. Can you believe that?"
"What do you want to say?" the assassin replied, cold and unapologetic, conveying a resolute refusal to submit or compromise.
Richard shrugged slightly in response. "Actually, it's nothing much. I just want to say that wisdom is a rare thing, not everyone possesses it. And now, sincerely, I hope you won't lack it too much."
"What's it to you?"
"Quite a bit," Richard calmly responded.
"If you're smart enough, perhaps you could tell me something I'd like to know before I act, and then maybe you'll suffer a bit less."
"Hah, don't scare me! I'm not afraid of you! Come on!"
The assassin retorted fiercely, spitting on the ground near Richard's feet.
Richard raised an eyebrow.
"Looks like you're really not willing to cooperate. Don't blame me for taking action then."
"Suit yourself!" the assassin replied defiantly, like a martyr prepared to face death.
Richard chuckled softly, stepping towards the assassin.
As he reached her, he slowly bent down. In the next moment, one hand grabbed the hem of her linen skirt, lifting it up, while the other hand rested on her calf, starting with a touch at the ankle and moving upward inch by inch.
The assassin's body trembled slightly, feeling the increasingly sensitive touch.
She shouted impatiently, "What... what are you planning to do to me?"
"Guess it," Richard replied, pausing his touch as he retrieved a small surgical knife from his pocket.
Seeing the knife, the assassin unexpectedly felt a slight relief.
She mocked, "What? Planning to torture me with this little toy?"
"That's one way to put it," Richard admitted, not denying it.
Then, he asked seriously, "Are you afraid of pain?"
"Only nobles like you would scream at the sight of a small knife," the assassin scoffed, resorting to personal attacks.
Ignoring her remark, Richard nodded thoughtfully.
"So, you're not afraid of pain, right? Very good, that saves me the trouble of finding something to gag you with. Alright, let's begin."
Begin?
Begin what?
Torture?
The assassin was still puzzled when Richard's voice continued, calmly explaining, "Now that we've covered the skin, let's move on to the muscles."
"What do you know about muscles?" he continued, as the surgical knife lightly slid across the assassin's calf.
"This is the anterior tibial muscle, robust and powerful. It's responsible for flexing and extending both feet, as well as maintaining the arch of the foot."
Richard paused, letting his words sink in.
"The arch of the foot controls the transmission of gravity from the ankle to the heel and toes. If I just make a small cut like this, damaging this muscle, your ability to stand upright will be severely compromised."
As Richard spoke, he made a light cut, and the assassin immediately felt a chill.
Her right leg suddenly went weak, and unbearable pain surged through her.
The pain she felt wasn't particularly intense, but the sudden weakness in her leg, coupled with Richard's incomprehensible words, intensified the sensation.
More than the wound itself, the pain came from within, from a deep-seated fear.
For reasons unknown, the fearless assassin, who had shown no fear until now, suddenly trembled as she looked at Richard standing before her.
She felt that the person standing before her wasn't just a detestable noble youth, but someone with a far more terrifying identity.
What that identity was, she couldn't quite explain, but it was surely more frightening than all her previous instructors combined.
So, when Richard swung his knife again, the assassin couldn't help but cry out.
"Ah——!"
Richard looked up at the female assassin.
In that moment, she saw a faintly disappointed expression on his face.
"Looks like you're still afraid of pain. Turns out you're more fragile than you thought," Richard remarked, shaking his head.
He turned away briefly, finding a piece of rag and after some effort, stuffed it into the assassin's mouth.
She struggled, whimpering, but couldn't prevent Richard from continuing his lecture.
"Alright, let's move on to another muscle, the soleus in the calf. I don't know if you've seen a sole fish, but seeing this muscle, you'd probably get the idea of what a sole fish looks like. Its function is less than the anterior tibialis we just discussed, but still important."
"One aspect is its role in extending the ankle, and the other is its contribution to power accumulation during walking or running. If this muscle were missing, every sprint record in the world would likely be a few seconds slower. And if it's damaged, like now, your right leg would feel weaker, making it difficult to spread your feet. "
"This is the gastrocnemius, its function... when damaged... "
"This one is the extensor hallucis longus, its function... when damaged... "
"This... "
Richard's voice continued as the assassin's pain intensified.
She felt overwhelming fear closing in from all sides, surrounding her deeply, holding on only by sheer willpower.
After what seemed like an eternity, Richard finally finished explaining the entire calf muscle structure.
He stood up slowly, wiped blood from his hands, and removed the rag from the assassin's mouth.
Upon its removal, the assassin didn't scream but stared straight at Richard, her voice rising from the depths of her throat, repeating over and over.
"Kill me, kill me, please kill me, you monster!"
"Well, the issue is," Richard drawled, "I'm not quite ready to kill you yet because I still need to ask you some things."
"No way! I ain't telling you nothing, never gonna spill the beans!" the assassin shouted.
Richard raised an eyebrow slightly, calmly saying, "Given the current situation, I believe a little more pressure and you'll tell me everything I want to know. After all, you're not far from complete mental breakdown."
Richard paused, squinting at the assassin.
"However, I've already figured out quite a lot even if you don't tell me. For instance, a qualified assassin like you isn't someone just anyone can afford. Your resolute attitude suggests there are significant benefits involved, perhaps even threats like endangering family."
"Only someone with power and authority could arrange this. Probably a noble. Frankly, I've spent most of my life in the castle preparing for things, never straying far from the barony, never offending anyone. There aren't many who would want to kill me, let alone act on it."
Richard continued, "Even fewer would actually go through with it. Analyzing carefully, the name of the person is obvious. If I'm not mistaken, it's my brother Edward Angrey whom I haven't seen in years. He's been 'gaining experience' among the maternal aristocracy."
"He's been away long enough, thinking perhaps I, as a brother who's not a wizard but might as well be, pose too much danger. Maybe he thinks having me around means he can't inherit smoothly. It's foolish but reasonable. His actions following that thought, inevitable."
Richard leaned closer to the assassin, self-deprecatingly saying, "So, should I courteously greet my brother—Edward Angrey?"
The assassin's eyes widened suddenly.
After staring at Richard for a while, she burst out, "I finally understand why someone would want you dead at all costs. Because you're too smart, smart enough to make everyone else look like fools. I curse you to the hell!You're a wizard, a demon. You must die! "
"Hey, is that so," Richard smiled faintly, looking at the assassin without anger, calmly saying, "
"But you know what's funny? It ain't gonna be me kicking the bucket, it's gonna be you. I get it, you're just doing your job, following orders and all that. Killing ain't on you, it's on whoever gave the order. Letting you off easy just proves I've got a heart.""
The assassin's eyes brightened.
"But I'm not a saint after all. You were meant to cooperate, but you didn't. That's on you. So, goodbye."
Richard waved his hand, and with a squeak, the door opened as he walked out.
Then with another squeak, the door closed.
Inside and outside the door were two worlds, one of life and one of death.
Inside, the assassin clutched her throat tightly, convulsing and collapsing, her eyes filled with fear.